Amphetamine, Amphetayours
by rhombus
Summary: Oliver gets jealous. Kyle gets inappropriately loud in public. It's like their greatest hits. Kyle/Oliver college fic.


Co-written with** AzureHorizon**

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**Amphetamine, Amphetayours: A Crash Course in Oliver 101**

Thinking about the party should have been simple. Cheez-whiz simple. But it wasn't. Kyle thought about, maybe, sharing a few drinks before the party—just a couple—with an incredibly hot guy; a guy who was incredibly _not gay_, which threw out any fun plans afterward. The guy also happened to be the most straight-laced, Sunday-school-attending, rule-stickling college student in the known universes. Yeah, not just the one, but _multiple_. Pure, white-as-white snow that was just _begging_ to be dirtied up. _Woah. Kinky._

Kyle usually found it hard to trust people like that, but there was something about the way he looked at Kyle that drew him in; hotness as the hook, distance as the line, and something of an enigma rippling just underneath the surface—the sinker. He kept those thoughts to himself, though. Keeping secrets was the only art he ever felt he was a master at; much of his life was still shrouded in darkness, even if he had come out to the people who were important to him, and now to his college buddies. No one knew, or could tell by the way he acted, that his interplay with other men was virginal at worst, a little more than prude at best. That wasn't even half of what Kyle buried deep down in his Pandora's Box. Those thoughts once again bubbled up to the frothy surface, even when he was just helping to set up the party with this... guy. Even though they were friends, practically besties amongst the rest of the brothers, Kyle never could be sure what to think of him.

"Trent better be a fucking awesome DJ, or this party's gonna blow, just like the last three," Kyle said, stretching his neck from side to side to relieve the kinks. He shifted his balance on the step ladder, making sure he wasn't in any position to fall. "Hand me that cord, Fish. I gotta get this strobe in place."

"Hmm?" Fish blinked up at him, his eyes a little foggy, roaming and unfocused. Kyle might have sworn the guy was staring at his ass, if he didn't know the guy in question as well as he did. Fish wouldn't know how to leer if he took a sixteen week course in it. His ass just happened to be at Fish-eye-level. And anyone would stop and stare at a masterpiece if it were so conveniently placed before them, whether they were into art or not. If he could teach his ass to smirk, it would be the Mona fucking Lisa.

"Snap out of it, Fish. You drunk already? The party doesn't start for another six hours. Now hand me that cord, ya big doof."

"U-uhm, y-yeah, here you go." He lifted up the cord, almost in the right direction, his eyes still plastered to Kyle's prominently placed derriere. Kyle quickly grabbed it out of his hand, a smirk slashing across his face. Fish didn't notice. He never noticed much of anything, really. Kyle peered down after hooking in the light, only to see Fish taking in the sight of his dress shirt lifting up somewhat, exposing a small spot of his lower back. _Mystifying..._

Fish licked his lips and wiped his palms against his jeans. Kyle thought he saw the telltale streak of sweat left in the wake.

"What's up, dude? You seem extra twitchy today. Espresso shots down at Murph's again?"

His eyes traitorously devoured the sight of Fish's Adam's apple bobbing up and down with his massive gulp. "Um, no... It's just... parties...?" Fish's shoulders bunched until his neck was practically swallowed up in their mass.

Nervous Fish. A sight to behold—and behold often.

Of course, Fish wasn't just a nervous nellie about anything, he was a nervous nellie about _everything_. Something about that neurotic quirk drew Kyle in, leisurely at first, but he'd stupidly let himself become enamored with it, that strange endearing trait that morphed into something else, something charming, even tantalizing. _Don't reach for that fruit, Kyle; the Greeks and Romans told you that could lead to your downfall. Don't want to end up chasing after a loose end, especially if it's this guy. You can only imagine what kind of horrors lie behind that door._

So, okay, yeah, he had a little crush. But it was harmless. Totally harmless. He could keep it under control, keep their bro-times extra bro-ey.

"Don't tell me you're _scared_, Fish. You nervous about another one of our lamer than lame frat parties?" Kyle put on a quizzical, if slightly placating, face.

"No. _No_." Fish pursed his lips, painting his face in petulance. "It's just, I don't have a date yet, and I don't know how to dance, and I do really, really embarrassing things when I drink, like puke, and sing, and sometimes I do one while I'm in the middle of doing the other..." Oliver's face contorted this way and that, doing somersaults, handstands, back-flips, front flips. He knew Oliver wasn't cut from the right kind of cloth to be a gymnast, but his face sure as fuck said otherwise. He couldn't help but smile at how the man could be so animated.

"_Dude_. What. The. Fuck." Kyle swirled his hand in the general direction of Fish's mega-spastic freakout, making sure to keep his precarious balance atop the step ladder.

Oliver relented his circumlocutions for a moment, coming back to the main point after his long-winded tangent, which were myriad in nature.

"Okay, yeah, I'm a _little_ nervous. What's your point?"

"That you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about. If I know anything about girls, which is a sketchy proposition at best, they don't care if you can dance, and they _like_ when you don't have a date. Easier to snatch you up like salmon in their scary bear claws." Kyle grabbed at his throat, clawing at it lightly, his face contorting into a mixture of pain and horror.

Oliver rolled his eyes, another trademark that made his whole face go through slight and subtle changes, which belied his secret amusement. _I aim to please_, Kyle thought to himself.

Oliver's expression suddenly changed, turning dark. "Going alone... that doesn't make me a—a—a loser or anything?"

Kyle shrugged as he attached another wire. "As long as you're hot, girls don't care if you're a loser."

"...hot?" The word came out like a nervous tick, a squeak at best, his voice raising several decibels, as if the man had reverted to prepubescence.

The response elicited a bit of a chortle from Kyle, his hoarse, gravelly laugh which, judging from the new sweat stains crowding under his arms, seemed to make Oliver even more nervous than usual.

After relinquishing his mild torture of Oliver's pride, Kyle spoke up again. "Don't get your underpants in a knot, Ollie old boy. It's not an opinion. It's not my gayness leaking all over you. It's a fact: You're. Hot." He shrugged. "Deal with it."

"_'Ollie'_...?"

Kyle couldn't hold back his smirk. He had just stumped the great Clueless Cod. Not like it took much; it was like he uttered moonspeak whenever he talked to him.

"Ho boy." Kyle snapped his fingers in front of Fish's frozen face. "Fish. Breathe—before you pass out. You're safe. I don't think of you _that_ way, okay?"

"...you don't?"

"For God's sake." Kyle shook his head and sighed loudly. Oliver's reactions intrigued him, but he didn't dare press further, instead opting to take a few steps back. "You're just a friend. Like I'm _your_ friend." He reached out his hand, and Oliver did as well. They swapped skin, bouncing their knuckles off each other. "We feel the same way about each other."

As if Kyle had hit the big red flashing button labeled _Oliver Freakout Mode_, Oliver's eyes went wild. "I don't think _you're_ hot!"

"Ouch. Pierce me to my soul, Fish." Kyle rested his hand over his heart. "Harsh. But, I guess it doesn't matter if I'm hot or not, since I'm already going with someone to the party, and have spared myself the sad brand of _loser_."

"...someone?" That precious little squeak again.

"Could you maybe start a sentence that doesn't end in a question mark one of these days? Yes, Fish. Someone. A dude. Named Ryan."

"He's coming as—" An audible gulp. "—as your date?"

"Uh, _yeah_. My date. We do that too, you know. It's not the exclusive playground of straight folk."

"So is he, like, your... your boyfriend?"

"Are you really interested in this?"

"Um, no. I guess not. I mean, I dunno. Do you talk about this kind of stuff with your other, um, straight friends?"

"Yeah..." Kyle quirked his head to the side. "But they're all girls."

"Oh." Fish's voice deepened as he nodded his head knowingly. "Girl talk."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "You're so clueless, you know that?"

Fish merely shrugged, his shoulders starting to slump, like Kyle had hit a new chord in him. _Resignation_. He blew the air out of his cheeks pathetically. "Yeah. I know."

"Well, whatever. He's not my boyfriend. Not yet, anyway. But I like him. He's cool."

Like a blowfish in some kiddie cartoon that had just been punctured, Oliver deflated even more. "Oh. Cool is, uh, cool."

Kyle rolled his eyes again. "You're like some sort of word-genius. Hand me that stupid disco ball, will ya?" Grabbing on the ball, Kyle attempted to reach for a small hook on the ceiling to place the ball onto, but ended up cursing his height-challenged frame. "Damn. Too short. Hey, Fish, you gotta do this. My arms can't reach."

"Just... stretch more. You can do it." The tone in Fish's voice seemed to be dripping with curiosity, and maybe a little bit of deviousness. Which was... new.

"What? No. Just do it." Kyle began his descent down the ladder.

"I... can't."

"You can't?"

"It's just... heights." Oliver shivered, showing another side of him that Kyle hadn't yet become acquainted with. _True fear_.

"You serious?"

"As serious as I'll ever be. You can fill my sleeping bag with scorpions, I don't care, just don't ask me to go any higher than sea level!"

Kyle snorted. "Man, you suck." He decided to try again, even if it probably wouldn't work. "All right. I can probably do it if I get on the top step." With a miffed look at the disco ball, Kyle felt his stomach lurch. He didn't feel like falling off a ladder today; that was not in the agenda. Not marked on the calendar, and definitely not a memo on his cellphone. "I hate this stupid thing. We've already got the colored strobes set up. This is totally unnecessary. Hey, steady the sides, will ya? I don't wanna—"

The last word never came out, as Kyle lost his footing, his arms flung out wide trying desperately to find something to grip onto. "Shitfuc—" But again his words were silenced, Oliver timing his position at the right moment to catch him, Kyle's momentum stopped mid-curse.

He could smell the waves of cologne coming off of Oliver, and at the same time he felt Oliver's weak but steady breath on his neck, and the occasional strong inhale meant that, he, too, was taking in the scent of the situation. For a few moments, letting the intestate world keep its perpetual turning, the two men were in each other's arms, Oliver's wrapped around Kyle's chest. Kyle craned his neck to look up into those azure eyes, and saw hesitancy, nervousness, but something else... another emotion? _Want?_ Neither man made any move to dislodge themselves from their current situation, but eventually Oliver let his arms drop, coughing nervously, casually letting Kyle regain his footing on the ground.

Kyle scratched the back of his neck, taking a few steps away, restoring the natural one-foot-distance of proper bro-positioning. That was... not was he had expected from Oliver. The guy was sending signals, definite signals, but they were muddied, incoherent—totally, maddeningly incoherent.

"Well, uh... we should get ready, right?" Kyle asked, borrowing a cup of nerves from Oliver.

"Y-yeah, d-definitely. I-I need to find a different shirt to p-put on."

"Go for it, bud." Kyle patted Oliver on the shoulder, adding a slight push, literally pushing himself away from the situation. He didn't need this kind of confusion in his life. He turned on his heels, his breath not yet returning to normal. There was a slight stirring in his pants, too, which was not good timing whatsoever.

The probability of party lameness was just superseded by something else. Something much, much more interesting.

Kyle hadn't seen Oliver since their sexual-tension-hug-of-confusing-awesomeness, but he didn't mind. He had Ryan to distract him, looking as fly as ever. He was Kyle's height, not any taller, and his brown hair, flecked with patches of red, fell just under his ears. He was small and lithe like Kyle himself was, and _gay_—that was the most important part. Kyle couldn't help but compare him to Oliver, but he didn't know why. He had no reason to. Whatever. The two of them walked out onto the dance floor, proceeding to bump and grind to the _whumpa-thumpa-whumpa_ of the hilariously bad dance music Trent had queued up. Kyle moved in front of Ryan, grinding his ass into Ryan's crotch as Ryan looped his arms around Kyle, his hands hungrily roaming the expanse of his chest and upper thighs.

Their gyrations were building into a little electromagnetic storm, attracting gawks and stares, as there weren't many gays in Llanview who were out and proud. Some of the girls he knew around campus watched the two of them with appreciative smiles, waving hello at Kyle, who promptly smiled and waved back. Some of the more hardass straight guys in the frat looked away in barely concealed disgust, but never made any move to approach them and be pot-stirrers, brewing up any unnecessary and ugly shitstorms. Some other guys gave him a thumbs up, which was nice.

But all of that didn't matter, none of the looks were registering more than a blip on Kyle's radar. Dancing with another guy, completely out in the open like this, exposing himself without reserve, was enthralling him more than anything else in the world right now. He could feel Ryan getting excited behind him, even planting a few slight kisses on Kyle's neck. Every now and then Ryan would bite Kyle's earlobe, which was beginning to really turn him on. He closed his eyes and just soaked it all in.

When he opened his eyes again, a face stopped him.

_Oh fuck._

The one face that was capable of stirring up shit tonight. Oliver. Seething.

Kyle was still perplexed as to why the guy was seemingly so interested in him. Fish proclaimed his straightness far and wide, even so much as shoving it in Kyle's face sometimes. He was a hetero in a sea among heteros... right? But this anger was new. Oliver had always been pretty cool with him. Nervous, like Kyle was some sort of exotic new species of creature that might attack him at any sudden movement, but never angry. Not like this, not towards him.

And when Oliver got angry—from what Kyle could tell from the little experience he had with such an occurrence—he drank, and he drank heavily. Enough to drink himself under the table. He was sucking down beers left and right now, becoming incredibly drunk incredibly fast. Every time Kyle tried to direct his eyes elsewhere, to focus on the hot guy dancing with him, he was inevitably drawn back to Oliver, who gave him death glares that could really make people straight-up die in their intensity. Kyle felt himself succumbing to that glare, letting it mess with his rhythm, making his partner do all the work.

A thought suddenly popped into Kyle's head, making him a little sick. Oliver must've been one of _those_ guys—fine with gays as long as they didn't do anything, well, gay. Never show their affection for another guy where innocent God-fearing heteros might witness such an abomination.

Well fuck that.

Kyle was going to enjoy this night with or without Oliver talking to him ever again afterward. The dude had a giant fucking rod up his ass, and not in the good way.

"Hey... you want summa this?" Ryan asked, whispering into his ear. A hand that was on his waist moved in front of Kyle's line of view, a small white pill embedded in the crevices.

"W-What is that?" Kyle asked, clueless.

"Ecstasy, dude."

"Nah man, I'm uh, I'm not into that. It's fine if you like it, though."

"Eh. Nevermind." Ryan looked a little downtrodden, but said nothing to make it outwardly apparent. "It's no fun if I'm riding that high alone." He calmly shoved the pill back into his pocket.

Kyle spared a quick glance in Oliver's direction, and found himself staring down pure, ugly rage. A rage that made Oliver's face go stone-cold, his expression unreadable, his eyes darkened with wild anger. Kyle could feel the heat of that anger from across the room, but he was in no mood to stamp it out. In fact, he had the sudden uncontrollable urge to incense it further.

Turning around, he crashed his mouth into Ryan's, licking his lips with tenacity, diving his tongue deep into Ryan's mouth. Ryan was surprised at first, but then moaned under Kyle's ministrations. He reached two hands around to grasp Kyle's ass with vigor and desire. Kyle, in turn, reached down and groped Ryan's crotch, feeling the hardness there. _Not as big as I thought, probably not as big as Oliv—what the fuck am I thinking? Focus, Kyle. Focus._ Ryan was getting sloppy with his kisses, but Kyle didn't care. He wanted to make Oliver mad. Wait, no, he didn't. He just wanted to have fun. But he also wanted to make Oliver furious.

"Hey, let's take this party elsewhere..." Ryan said, his voice tinged with horniness and lust. "I can drive, I'm not too messed up."

Kyle said nothing, but it didn't matter, because Ryan kept talking anyway. "I bet you give amazing head."

Kyle's eyes went wide like UFO saucers, and he casually glanced at Oliver, who was beyond red-faced and trashed, ready to explode. Kyle couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Sure, why not?" He turned back to Ryan. "Let's get outta here."

College was a perfect time as any to add some notches to the totem pole of his sex life, get a little experience here and there so when the right guy came along he could just fucking rock his world. Sure, he was a little young for this shit, and pretty fucking tipsy, but whatever. Oliver could get bent.

"Lemme get some water real quick," Ryan said, releasing him. "Be back in a sec."

Kyle took the departure as his cue to use the bathroom. Oliver was unfortunately sitting right next to the entrance to arched hallway, the empty bottles piling up around him, the anger seething out of him as much as the alcohol did. He stood up, about to say something, about to reach for Kyle's arm, but Kyle ignored him, swiftly edging to the other side of the hall, continuing towards the bathroom unaccosted.

He didn't want to hear what Oliver had to say. Finding out his friend was a closet-homophobe was kinda depressing the hell outta him, and he didn't need that tonight. It set his teeth on edge.

The bathroom held no reprieve for his nerves, but at least he was nervous about something else. Sex was... new, something he'd never tried with anyone, let alone a guy who seemed to know what he was doing. He looked into the mirror and questioned the visage that appeared there. Uncertainty was painted across the mural of his face, swathes of emotion in different colors angling and stressing certain nerves and muscles under the surface. Ryan might not have been the guy of his dreams, and obviously the sex wouldn't be nearly as romantic as he had always imagined, but it was time. He was ready. And there was no one else. Something in the back of his mind stilled him. Something distinctly Oliver-shaped. It nagged... but the voice that spoke was too small and too easily buried for Kyle to pay any attention to it. He pushed his sleeves up nervously and took in a deep breath. One last glance at the mirror, and he left the bathroom and those nagging thoughts behind.

Turning back into the main room, he caught Oliver and Ryan in the middle of a heated exchange. Oliver's expression was oddly serious and he no longer appeared drunk. Ryan looked confused, and almost scared. His eyes searched around the party, presumably for Kyle, but he never turned in Kyle's direction. Instead he shook his head, lifting his arms in retreat, his actions speaking clearly: "I don't need this shit." He turned on his heel and got lost in the crowd—leaving, Kyle assumed.

Now it was his turn to be pissed. Why the fuck would Oliver ruin Kyle's chances with another guy? Was his homophobia that fucking strong? It was like he was doing everything in his power to ruin Kyle's night. First the weird, prolonged-but-hot hug, and all the glances, now outright sabotage. Or was it... jealousy? _Jealousy_. He was learning every word in the lexicon of Oliver's emotions, gleaning unneeded and unnecessary knowledge. He didn't want to be in this library. Each aisle seemed like an invitation to new horrors. He took advantage of Oliver's new solitude and stomped over, fuming.

"Just what the hell d'ya think y're doin'?!" His Southern accent came out all too well when he was no-holds-barred pissed.

Oliver's brows creased in confusion. Something else was there, too. A little fear, perhaps. Fear. Exactly what he wanted to instill in this fucking asshole right now. Kyle was staring broadswords at Oliver, who was rooted to the spot in a whole new level of terror.

"Who the hell d'ya think you are, Fish!? Yeah, I git it. You don't want anyone to have any fun an' I'm fuckin' sick of it! Leave me the fuck alone! Stop tryin' to fuck up my opportunities!"

Oliver took a step back, raising his arms in front of him like a shield. "Hey. I didn't think we needed any drug pushers at the party, Kyle!" Oliver said in hushed tones, obviously trying to get Kyle to match his volume. That play for caution only made Kyle angrier.

"_Drug pushers?_ Are you serious?! He wasn't pushing drugs on anyone!"

"He was pushing them on _you!_"

"Your concern is touching, Fish. Really. But I'm a big boy. I take care of myself."

"He's not—he's not right for you. You shouldn't see him anymore. Ever. I told him not to come back here."

"Jesus Christ, dude! What the hell? You're so pissed off at your own sad, boring life that you don't want anyone else having any fun? That's _messed up_." He jabbed the index finger of his right hand sharply into Oliver's chest, emphasizing the point with a little pain.

"Could you calm down, Kyle? Please?"

"No! _No!_ You just scared off my date for no good reason and you want me to calm down? What's your problem, really? It's not drugs. Half the room's doing drugs." Kyle let his anger completely loose, feeling it course through every cell in his body. "You've been glaring at me all night! You got a problem with _me?_ With me being gay? _Why don't you tell me to my face you chickenshit coward!_"

The DJ took this completely off-chance moment to change songs, and a small, but defined lull encased the room. Every eye turned toward them for a brief moment. Even the DJ seemed a little speechless, but after a few painful moments put a new song on rotation.

Oliver whipped his head around, his face red with embarrassment and obviously wanting Kyle to shut up. He tugged Kyle roughly by the elbow, maneuvering them out of the main room and into the back of the darkened hallway, and finally into an empty room, the door slamming shut behind them.

Kyle turned and roughly shoved Oliver against the door. "What the fuck are you doing, dude?" He didn't like being manhandled.

Whamming against the door with a resounding thump, Oliver let out a sharp gasp, his eyes darkening. That intense look, that tongue that darted out to wet his lips, stirred up some of the residual arousal Kyle had for the man, arousal that didn't seem to be abated by Oliver's sabotaging.

Before Kyle could string together another thought, Oliver grabbed a fistful of Kyle's shirt, pulling him close. _Is he gonna hit me? Is that how this fuckin' night is gonna end?_ But nothing happened. Instead, Oliver remained as close to Kyle's face as possible, his labored, but intense breathing brushing across Kyle's mouth. Neither of them said anything. Kyle looked down. There was a large tent coming out of Oliver's pants that finally let Kyle know what was really going on.

The two closed the breach between them, tongues clashing in anger and lust and desire. Rough, furious kisses that made Kyle moan, and in turn Oliver did too, a small growl erupting from his throat. He tasted like beer and fire. Kyle wedged his leg between Oliver's, and they began to grind against each other, hardness against hardness. _I was right,_ Kyle mused in the midst of a strung-out daze. _Oliver does have something big down there..._

He felt like laughing into Oliver's mouth. Who needed drugs when you had Oliver Fish's hands pulling your hair, his mouth on your neck, his teeth scraping and gnawing at the skin, making it burn so good? That was what ecstasy really meant. No little white pill could ever top that, because desire and lust were drugs that, from the right person, could send you into a stratosphere that no recreational poison could ever supersede. Oliver stroked Kyle's exposed forearms while they grinded and kissed, making sure the shirt sleeves stayed up, pulling at his skin like he wanted it to come off with his fingers.

They leaned together against the door, both hard and horny as hell. Kyle pulled back, taking a moment to catch his breath. A break was in order... for a little while, anyway. The short interruption gave him the chance to ask the questions he wanted to ask before Oliver had pounced on him.

"What did you say to Ryan? He looked like he was gonna shit himself."

Oliver swallowed. He kept his eyes closed. "I told him to keep his hands off of you."

Kyle couldn't hold back his snort. "To keep the party unsullied from our combined gayness?"

"No." Oliver shook his head adamantly. "Not that."

"Then why?"

No response.

"Oliver. _Tell—me—why_."

Oliver kissed him hard, then pulled back, resting his forehead against Kyle's, inhaling deep, strangled breaths.

"Please." With his eyes closed, Kyle wasn't sure who'd spoken.

"_Oliver_," he begged.

"I told him... I told him you were _mine_," Oliver said, a low, aggressive growl emanating from deep within his throat. The sound sent shivers down Kyle's legs. _God_, Oliver was like a big, sexy tiger—all danger and beauty staring him down with hungry eyes.

Kyle felt his whole body tighten with desire. That didn't stop him from grabbing Oliver's collar and squeezing it tight around his neck.

"You... _ass_."

A wave of confusion and shock crashed over Oliver's face, temporarily taming the tiger, in that fucking cute-as-hell way Kyle _adored_.

He couldn't stop the flirtatious grin that spread across his face. "You coulda told _me_ first."

He reached behind Oliver and locked the door, and the snick of that lock sliding into place was better than any other sound he could remember hearing in his life. Swallowing hard, he realized that with that one action, anything could happen. Sure, he may have been in a room with a horny, ferocious tiger of a man, but he wanted to be in that tiger's cage.

Errant thoughts skittered across his mind. As much as he wanted to stay right where he was, he also wanted to grab Oliver and pull him back out into the open, display this mad, wild passion to the world. What would it be like to dance with him? To grind up against him, unapologetically, in front of everybody? Fuck, he could find out at the next party. Right now, all he could think about was the quickest way to get that annoying shirt off Oliver's chest. _God, he's so tall and so fuckin' gorgeous, and I wanna hear him moan. I wanna do some nasty, downright wrong things to you right now, Oliver Fish._

He grabbed onto Oliver's waist and swiveled him around, pushing him backwards, then shoved him roughly onto the room's empty, unadorned bed. Kyle climbed on top of him as another predatory growl boiled up from deep within Oliver.

Kyle began ripping buttons and fabric. "And now I'm gonna make _you_ mine."


End file.
